Two young lovers threw caution to the wind, as they twist age-long tradition in their favor. They elope, before the resultant scandal burst out in the open. They finally find solace in the war-faring, and head-hunting Ohafia. It was not until another fifteen rains, for Akachukwu to be born, with grim reminders to his parents, that they can run; but cannot outrun the finger of God. It was obvious that Akachukwu was from God. Not until that broad daylight accident... and two of Akachukwu's three sons, consequently disappeared in a whiff of smoke at the abode of Africa's most dreaded oracle. A shocking verdict of guilty is signed, sealed, delivered.

Ohafia activates mourning mode; oblivious that the two brothers were already packaged as human cargo on a passage of no-return. As they begin a most harrowing journey through the hinterlands, and across the vast Atlantic; they resolve to return to expose the well-kept secrets of the sham of an oracle that was the biggest ruse for the slave trade. From Africa to Cuba, and from the Americas to Europe; both the living and the presumed dead of the Akachukwu clan, find themselves in various theaters of war, ready to decimate them. It is survival of the fittest, as they resort to native intelligence of clinical precisions garnered from the homeland to survive.

Over two hundred and fifty years later, when the slave routes were overgrown and erased by the grasses and cobwebs of modernity, the survivors converge in London under the most bizarre sequence of events, that seemed unconnected. Age-long friends and foes alike come with daggers drawn to destroy or be destroyed in a battle of wits, as the world watched and waited with bated breath. All these years, a physical feature that was a common denominator remained invincible and indelible in them. A recurring decimal across board, became the burden of proof of their identity: Akachukwu. The chickens have come home to roost.